


Selfish Reasons

by AkisMusicBox



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Actually Fairly Innocent, Don't copy to another site, F/M, Pre-Time Skip, Self-Indulgent, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed, These are a few of my favorite tropes, Trapped in a Storm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23042461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkisMusicBox/pseuds/AkisMusicBox
Summary: It was cold. It was dark. And the abandoned guard house only had one bed. Byleth was out of magic -- the burgeoning skill having been exhausted in order to light their way to a haven. The pouring rain had soaked them to the bone. It would be impossible to make it back to the main battalion now.The fireplace was empty, and the wood had been left outside. She made a mental note of this -- it was something to advise her students never to do or fear her wrath. "We'll have to share," Byleth said, gesturing to the glorified cot.Byleth and Claude get caught in a storm during a scouting mission. Pillow talk ensues. Welcome to the most self-indulgent thing I've written in awhile.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 21
Kudos: 165





	Selfish Reasons

It was cold. It was dark. And the abandoned guard house only had one bed. Byleth was out of magic -- the burgeoning skill having been exhausted in order to light their way to a haven. The pouring rain had soaked them to the bone. It would be impossible to make it back to the main battalion now.

The fireplace was empty, and the wood had been left outside. She made a mental note of this -- it was something to advise her students never to do or fear her wrath. "We'll have to share," Byleth said, gesturing to the glorified cot. She pulled her boots off with numb fingers, then started stripping her coat.

Claude's hair clung to his face, the braid threatening to come undone. "I can sleep on the floor, Teach." His voice seemed weak. _Exhausted, as am I._

She held up her hands to show how the tips were turning blue. "I don't mean to make you uncomfortable, but sharing a blanket would help me greatly."

His eye widened. "Teach! You gotta be careful." He ripped his boots off and his top layer, leaving his white undershirt. She could already hear Seteth's arguments about propriety, but for once, she had a good argument back. Numb fingers were deadly to a warrior, especially one stranded far from their main forces. While Jeralt had taught her to be careful, he did instill in her that this was a particular situation to put aside ideas about what was proper. "And if the other person tries to take advantage of the situation, you're in perfect range to break their nose."

_It would be a shame to break this particular nose,_ she thought as they lay facing each other, mere inches away. Byleth tucked her hands under her face, only affording the smallest bit of heat. _It'll be warm soon._

His face seemed composed, but she noticed the slightest tug on his lip -- he was biting it. She couldn't blame him for being uncomfortable. She had been demonstrating more intricate techniques lately, and Claude had continually been volunteered to help her demonstrate. _I should apologize._ Mostly for the bruises she might have called, but also for her conscious. She liked fighting him. She didn't like hurting him, but engaging him in a way she knew she could keep up was a treat. He knew culture and politics and poetry. She knew battle.

Before she could speak, he did first. "You're wearing the bracelet I gave you for my birthday." He looked at her wrist.

A gold bracelet with prancing deer in the forest hadn't left her wrist since that particular tea time. "For my birthday," she corrected. _For our shared birthday would have been more accurate._

"Slip of the tongue," he said, still avoiding her gaze. "Did things like this happen often when you were a mercenary? Scouting missions gone awry?"

"Occasionally," she admitted. "But retaining warmth and keeping your body prepared takes priority." She could feel the heat off of him, but her hands still ached.

"Did you receive a letter from your family on your birthday?" she asked.

He chuckled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "From Duke Riegan, not my grandfather. It was all about what a man in my position should do and how to act."

She furrowed her brow. "I'm certain the advice wasn't reflective of your behavior. Merely a recitation of tradition."

"Maybe I can show you and you can decide." He finally seemed to be looking at her. "Did Jeralt give you advice when you turned eighteen?"

She smiled sadly. "I don't actually recall. Life was a bit simpler then. I was a competent fighter already. I just remember one time he warned me to stay wary of who I shared my bed with."

Claude blushed. "I -- I suppose that's probably wise. And I know how this is going to sound but... your hands still look blue."

She pulled them out to examine them, and he took them. He pressed them into his chest, and she had to resist the urge to curl he fingers. He was so very warm.

"Is that helping?" he asked, voice hitching. She thought she could feel his heartbeat.

"Yes," she said softly, having the courtesy to look down at her hands instead of his eyes. Feeling was returning to her fingertips and the aching subsiding. Somehow she knew it would only become more preoccupying than the previous pain.

As he moved to cover the back of her hands with his palms, his thumb brushed her wrist. She heard him swallowed. "I... heard a rumor. Feel free to be angry if it's totally baseless, but... I heard you don't have a heartbeat. No pulse."

"That's true," she said, a tinge of bitterness entering her tone she didn't know existed.

"No!" he said. "I was just meaning that it might make sense that your hands are in this condition. The weather, heavy magic use, and if you don't have blood pumping constantly it's gotta be strenuous."

She peeked up. "There was no one to teach spellwork among our corps. It's definitely not my area of expertise."

He nodded adamantly. "Not mine either! Maybe we need to ask Hanneman for another seminar." His voice grew quiet. She could finally feel her toes. "Teach, tell me, why did you pick the Golden Deer?" He smirked, but it was tinged with irony. "I know it wasn't just my winning smile."

She thought if she were capable, she would blush, too. "Selfish reasons," she admitted.

"All the best reasons are," he encouraged. "I promise I won't tell." If she'd have curled her fingers into his shirt, she could have tugged him closer. Secrets are meant to be told within tight proximity, right?

"I picked the house that I would have chosen if I were allowed to enter as a student," she explained. "The place that I thought I'd have been accepted for who I am."

His smile didn't just reach his eyes. It lit his entire face. Lines she never realized were near his eyes disappeared. He was blinding. "You have no idea how happy that makes me to hear that." His grip tightened on her hands. "If I couldn't help my house become a place where everyone felt accepted, then there was no way I could do that for the Alliance. For Fodlan." Then, his expression grew serious. "But, now that I think about it, it isn't fair to you. Don't get me wrong, your instruction has been essential, but... you and Mercedes are about the same age, I'd wager. And you didn't get the chance to just run around the monastery and focus on your own growth. And pull pranks." She didn't think he realized he was rubbing his thumb along the side of her hand.

Byleth suppressed a smile that twisted her mouth. "Are pranks truly necessary?"

"Teach, you would me! It's essential for team-building in a low-stakes environment." His thumb stilled. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry that we need you to be our Teach, instead of just... one of us."

"It does no good to lament what could have been. I'm merely fortunate to be where I am now." It's an expression she picked up awhile ago, and she meant it to refer to Garrag Mach, not that bed. But the correction seemed unnecessary. Or perhaps, a strange part of her hoped for the misinterpretation. Her eyes found his jawline. Stubble was already starting to form.

She slipped a hand from his grasp and ran her thumb along his jaw. "Why don't you grow a beard?"

He thought he saw pink return to his face once again. "That's not how Fodlan nobles look. They're thin and tall and clean-shaven. Ask Lorenz, he'd be sure to explain it all."

She spared his chin one last stroke before letting her hand fall to the bed, a hair's breadth away from him once again. "I haven't known much of nobility until recently, so I wouldn't know. Most mercenary leaders have facial hair. I'm sure it's not that way across the world."

He nodded. "True as that may be, it's better to blend for now." The hand still holding hers squeezed her again. "Tell me if I'm crossing a line, but considering that we've got no place to go and nothing to do until the storm passes... do you want to pretend? Just for awhile, that you're a student?"

She gave a surprised chuckle. "What would that entail?"

"Whatever you want," he said too quickly. Then, he added, "Whatever secrets you want to know about. Whatever burning questions you had. Whatever gossip or student traditions, they're yours... Byleth."

He had chanced saying her name, and she wasn't about make him regret it. "Very well." She cleared her throat. "Mr. Leader Man. I'm you're new recruit, Byleth Eisner. Teach me everything I need to know."

He chuckled. "Slow down there, Byleth! Life at the monastery is complex. You have to take it as it comes, it's not just a list of facts to memorize." He raised an eyebrow and whispered, "Is this payback for me peppering you with questions your first week?"

"Indeed," she whispered back. Then, in a louder voice, she said, "I will trust your assessment. So, what is the first thing I need to know about?"

"That's easy," he said and waved his free hand. "Beyond the layout of the monastery and the rules, what you really need to know is each authority figure's _relationship_ with the rules. Some live and breath those rules, other abide by the spirit of them. When you're doing something against them, you have to calculate who might catch you. So, for example, if you're caught in a boy's room past curfew, you better hope it's not Seteth catching you. Your best bet is Manuela, who will merely send you on your way and won't write you up if you agree to go to her office tomorrow morning."

Byleth was confused for the moment until he explained, "Not a single unplanned pregnancy since Manuela took up working at the monastery. And considering how many people hope that their training will also help them find a spouse, that's crucial."

"Ah, I see." She smiled. "And how about Hanneman?"

"A bit more rigid, but still bendable, especially if you can somehow tie it to a discovery. If you're outside, you better be studying the stars. By the pond? You saw a golden glow. Lines like that will spare you from stable-cleaning duty." The hair clinging to his forehead was starting to dry.

"And what about the new professor?" she ventured.

He raised an eyebrow. "She has a fine line to walk. Trying to keep her new employer happy while still respecting us students. But, she's uncompromising in her training, that's for sure."

Her mood dipped. "I'm sorry, Claude."

"For what?" he asked. "Ever bruise is just Teach telling me she cares. And I might admit to being a bit jealous if suddenly Sylvain or Lorenz were wearing them instead of me."

Her face felt _hot,_ in a way she'd never felt before. "That's not a typical sign of affection," she mustered.

"Student-teacher interactions are difficult," he said with a shrug, or as much as he could while lying on his side. "For example, I start my wyvern-riding training soon. If Seteth were to catch wind of me fraternizing with a professor, I'd certainly end up getting more than a few bruises. That is all perfectly within the rules if he's administering my lessons. And that brings me back to my first point, Byleth." He waved a finger at her. "See? It's not just about mischief. It's excellent practice in studying your allies and opponents."

Claude continued his overview to his new recruit long after her eyes grew heavy. Eventually, her eyes drifted shut and she murmured responses to his hushed tones. She couldn't remember when she stopped, only that they both eventually did. Sometime, during the night, Claude rolled over toward the door to the guardhouse. Sometime, during the night, Byleth draped her arm over him and pulled him into her. And sometime, during the night, Claude had taken her hand. All of these things had to happen at sometime, because when golden sunlight began to pour through the cracks in the door, Claude took her hand to his mouth and kissed it. She had never woke so peacefully before.


End file.
